


What's yours is mine.

by QueenCimorene



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon typical sexual tension, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Cemetery, Character Study, Cursed Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Eileen doesn't understand Rowena's accent, F/M, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Jack Kline Needs A Hug, Kinda?, M/M, POV Alternating, Protective Sam Winchester, Quote: Driver picks the music shotgun shuts his cakehole (Supernatural), Rated for swearing, Slight Impala whump, Spoilers, Stolen Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Tags Are Hard, The Impala (Supernatural), Witch Curses, Witches, original monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCimorene/pseuds/QueenCimorene
Summary: Dean is hit with a spell that gives him the powers, strength, emotions, abilities, and memories of the last person he touched.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 54
Kudos: 249





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sucker for witch-curses so have an angsty fic! Seriously... so much angst. There's some humor in there, too! But also... so much angst.  
> I will update regularly.

The spell wrapped itself around him, clinging and sticking through his soul like cobwebs, and melting like spun sugar until it was barely noticeable.

Dean saw its trajectory and did what he had been trained to do since he was four years old, he stepped in front of Sammy. 

He didn’t hear Sam retrieve and fire his gun but he saw the witch clutch his chest and drop like a sack to the floor, red spreading across his crisp white shirt. 

Dean swayed slightly, he caught himself on the wall before he could do anything too stupid like fall over. Sam would worry if he fell over. He was sure it was fine. He blinked slowly and the world blurred into a familiar blue. 

***

He woke to the comforting smell of Baby’s old leather seats. He raised his head blearily. The doors were open and Sam was nowhere in sight. He sat up straight quickly, fighting a wave of nausea. 

They were parked in front of a neatly trimmed white house. It looked like someone had grabbed it out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine and plopped it far away from its natural habitat of middle-class suburbia… all it needed was the picket fence. The front door to the house was open and Dean could just barely make out the sounds of shattering glass and cursing. He eased himself out of the impala and waited for nausea to hit again. Nothing. Whatever the spell was, it was either fading or adjusting to his system. He shook himself slightly and made his way up the white pebbled garden path to the front of the house. Everything was just a bit too pristine. He had his gun in his hand automatically as he cleared the doorway. 

Sam stood in the center of the main room, flannel discarded and green tee-shirt sticking to his back in the heat. A pile of assorted books and spell items took over the center of the room, clearly dumped there in a hurry. The sofa had been torn apart and cushions littered the shining hardwood. 

Sam had found the witch’s house, then. 

Dean lowered his gun and cleared his throat. Sam spun around, hand reaching for his gun. 

“Damnit, Dean.” Sam huffed. He squinted at his brother, concern wrinkling his forehead. “You OK? How do you feel?” Dean shrugged noncommittally. 

“Pretty fine right now, actually. Maybe the spell couldn’t last after we killed the son of a bitch. Any idea what he shot at me?” Dean asked. The tension in Sam’s face eased slightly and he shrugged, pulling a composition notebook from a recently emptied bookshelf near him. Dean appreciated that Sam was _not_ starting the conversation about Dean taking the spell for him. He really wasn’t up for it.

“From what I can find of his spell records, based on what I remember of the words he used, it is a spell of his own making,” Sam said, flipping open the notebook. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Awesome.”

Sam looked up with a sympathetic cringe. 

“Yeah. I found some notes on it in here-” He said, turning the book around and handing it to Dean - “but nothing on exact effects or reversal yet. This notebook’s from a few years ago when he was still… experimenting.” Sam took a moment to pull a face before continuing, “I’m figuring there should be more recent ones. That’s what I was digging for when you woke up.” Dean nodded as he scanned the witch’s cramped handwriting. It was mostly in Latin and while he understood more of it than he would ever willingly admit to Sam, he didn’t know a lot of the vocabulary used. 

“From what I can make out the spell has something to do with power transfers,” Sam said, striding over to the last standing bookshelf with any books on it in the room. Dean looked up, frowning,

“But I don’t have powers… and if I did shouldn’t that just cancel once we killed the witch?” he asked. Sam shrugged. 

“Maybe. Better to check, though, right?”

***

They found their answers in yet another black and white composition notebook in the witch’s bedroom. It was one of twenty notebooks that they had uncovered, although Dean thought they might have skipped one in their count. 

“Dean!” Sam called, half crouched between the witch’s dark green bedspread and the heavy mahogany side table. Dean jerked himself away from the odd collection of leather-bound books filled with graphic illustrations of what appeared to be extinct animal species being sacrificed and came to stand beside his brother. 

“OK,” Sam said at length, the words coming out more sigh than actual English. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam’s carefully neutral expression. “This explains a bit more, I’m pretty sure it is the same spell. I’m getting used to this guy’s notetaking.”

“Great,” Dean muttered. Sam ignored him. 

“According to this, the spell should knock you out first, which it did. It’s a way for him to keep you around if he wants to use you for experimentation with the spell.” he hesitated, eyes scanning the page, “nothing on if the spell dies with the caster I guess he couldn’t exactly kill himself to find out.” 

Dean snorted and sat down on the bed,

“Too bad, could have saved us the trouble.” 

“He must have been pretty confident that it would take us out to use it in the middle of a fight,” Sam mused “which makes sense, it is actually super simple to cast-”

“Sam,” Dean said giving Sam a pointed look. Sam cleared his throat. 

“Sorry, yeah. It looks like I was right, a power transfer. You start getting the powers of the last person that you had any sort of physical contact with,” he trailed off, staring at the page. Dean shook his head. 

“How does my gaining power help him? That seems off.” 

“Well, if the witch survives then he has some control over you through the spell, its an easy way for him to leach power with limited work.” Sam looked up at Dean suddenly, “which would explain why he was so hard for us to track and why his spells were affecting so many people, he was getting boosts!”

Dean shook his head, 

“That would make sense if he was stealing power from monsters or something but every vic we found seemed human,” Dean said. Sam nodded, moving one finger along the page to keep his place.

“I think in this case he means power more broadly as anything he can convert into it…” he trailed off, squinting at the page then read off slowly as he translated, “powers, ability, emotion, memory, life and soul force.” He looked up at Dean, eyebrows drawn together. Dean noticed his mouth was hanging open and he closed it quickly. “Dean, who was the last person you touched?” 

Dean frowned, deciding to ignore the obvious, he went over the past few days. It had been a day-long drive from the bunker out to the town where they had heard about the first witch killing. They had passed through several gas stations, two diners, and at least one shitty motel in that time. He could have brushed hands with anyone handing them change, key cards, whatever. He scowled. 

“You’ve been with me the whole time, I got no real clue but in all probability-”

“Me,” Sam finished for him. “Yeah.” 


	2. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean see the beginning results of the witch's curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switch! Turn on your Sam brains.   
> He's so much fun to write. 
> 
> AKF

The drive back to their hotel was a tense one. 

They really hadn’t interacted much with the local police, thankfully. On another case, they might have had to spend days in town working with the cops. This one had been fairly low on contact since they had found a fresh body the day they got there, which, given their current situation was definitely for the best. It seemed very unlikely that Sam  _ hadn’t  _ been the last person Dean touched but it couldn’t hurt to be careful. 

They had managed to track the witch using a spell Rowena had given them. She had said it would only work on a really powerful witch so it might be a bust… 

Sam flipped idly through another one of the notebooks from the witch’s house as Dean drove. He tried to go back through every interaction he had had with his brother in the past day and a half. He checked the time on his phone, it wasn’t even three yet. He rolled his eyes, he was beat.

_ Alright, focus.  _

He thought he remembered Dean tapping him on the shoulder at the police station after they had talked to the  _ really  _ unhelpful sheriff… but it hadn’t exactly been noteworthy, that kind of thing happened all the time. They also didn’t have a timeline on the spell or when someone else might notice themselves being drained. He certainly didn’t feel any different than usual, tired, kinda sore. 

He scrubbed at his face with his hands and stole a glance at Dean. He didn’t seem any different either. 

He flipped another page of the notebook. He wondered if this spell could somehow be changed… adapted to make it useful for them in the fight against Chuck. A spell that could steal power… if it was strong enough… which it probably wouldn’t be but maybe with Jack-

_ Focus, Sam. _

***

They didn’t know exactly how the spell would affect Dean or if he could still be a danger so Sam picked up the food. He had checked into the hotel, too. That was something. The fewer opportunities Dean might have had to touch anyone the better. Dean had been to the morgue while Sam had interacted with the cops at the crime scene. Morgues weren’t exactly a place where you got touchy. 

Dean had the TV on when Sam got back in and was lounging in bed. Sam rolled his eyes, more out of habit than anything else. He sent a quick text to Eileen to schedule a time for them to talk before setting back to work on the notebooks. He put his salad next to the stack, tossed Dean his burger, and tuned out the TV. To his surprise, Dean joined him at the table and opened up one of the notebooks as well, squinting sideways at the Latin. Sam took a quick picture of the notebook page with the actual spell text on it and sent it to Rowena.

It was another half an hour before Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. Sam looked up from the page he was on which seemed to be about a really early version of the spell and hadn’t offered anything even remotely useful as of yet. 

“I think, if my Latin is correct here, that this says something about specific effects… something having to do with blood relations or… family?” Dean said hesitantly, turning the notebook to face Sam. Sam bit back a smile, of course, Dean would downplay how much Latin he knew… not like he had taught Sam or anything. He took a small breath and deliberately didn’t roll his eyes before taking the notebook. 

“Ok, yeah-” he said, finding the spot Dean was pointing to, “the spell’s bounds seem not to apply to those with… familial ties?” he finished, his mind already racing. He scanned the rest of the page. Dean was up and pacing now. 

“So, what, whatever random-ass person I last brushed while walking or handed a bill too or-”

“Is the one at risk.” Sam confirmed, “Yeah… I won’t be effected cause I’m blood.” He frowned, again tracing their tracks in his head. “Dean, we’re going to have to go back to every spot we stopped and see if anybody-”

“Is suddenly being drained of their Goddamn life force? Yeah. I got that.” Dean said, tapping his fist irritably against the bedframe. Sam sighed and pulled out an empty page from one of the notebooks. 

“OK, let’s get everything we remember down on paper,” he said. 

***

Dean was standing outside of the car when Sam came back from the police station. He had been up hours before Sam, said he couldn’t sleep but he didn’t look too exhausted. Sam pushed away the thought that it might be because he was gaining someone else’s strength. 

“So, no one at the police station is feeling anything. I told them that it was a risky illness and that they should call if anyone got sick.” Sam said. Dean nodded, fists idly drumming against the Impala’s roof. “We checked the hotel… so next would be the gas station you went into to get snacks, right?” 

Dean nodded, 

“Yeah, but I am pretty certain I just put the money on the counter… and you paid at the restaurant before that because Jody called.” Dean said. His eyes tracking someone in the distance behind Sam as he spoke. Sam nodded, 

“Still need to-” 

“I know!” Dean grumbled. Sam shrugged and folded himself carefully into the car. Dean sighed as he sat down before yanking the door closed. The door snapped shut with a boom and with an ear-splitting crack the window shattered, glass tinkling down onto Dean’s head. The door handle-bar was snapped and Dean held a large chunk of it in one hand. 

It took Sam a moment to remember how words worked but he came back to his senses before Dean, who was still staring in abject horror at the door handle in his fist. 

“Um-” Sam managed. 

“Sam,” Dean growled. Sam swallowed. 

“Maybe it… maybe it gives you the person’s strength on top of your own or-”

“Sam,” Dean said again. 

Sam stopped talking. 

“It hurt Baby,” 

Sam wasn’t sure if he should crack any of the myriad of obvious jokes or treat it with the solemnity that Dean expected. 

“I- Do you feel-?” Sam started. Dean turned slowly to face him, glass glinting in his hair. His face had gone a few shades paler, which Sam thought might be a bit of an overreaction but-

“Sam, I couldn’t sleep last night. I woke up after half an hour…” he said. Sam nodded, not sure where this was going, “but I’m not… I’m not tired. And unless the person who’s power I’m grabbing is a bodybuilder in their spare time…” He trailed off, eyes widening. Sam stared at him then said slowly, 

“Dean, are you hungry?” 

Dean’s eyes widened ever so slightly more. He shook his head mutely, the horror on his face multiplying at this new information. 

“Shit.” Sam managed, he yanked out his phone. If Dean had Jack’s power… if Dean couldn’t control Jack’s power it could give away everything to Chuck it could-

“Hello?” Came Jack’s voice. Sam put him on speaker, not looking at Dean, who was still clutching the door handle like a lifeline. 

“Jack,” Sam said, trying to control his rocketing heart rate “how- do you feel ok?” 

There was a pause then Jack said,

“I… I feel fine? Should I not feel fine?” he sounded so confused that Sam winced. 

“No- yeah, you should feel fine… there’s no… no drain on your power or anything?”

Another pause. 

“No, none that I can sense. Why? Sam, what’s going on?” 

Sam let out a harsh breath

“No it’s… that’s good. It’s fine, it will be ok.” 

“Jack-” Dean cut in harshly, “where’s Cas?” 

Sam swallowed, feeling like both an idiot and an asshole for not thinking of that right off the bat, he had been so worried about Jack and Chuck that-

“He left early this morning on a hunt,” Jack said slowly. Dean’s eyebrows went up disbelievingly. “He said he didn’t want to leave me but it was an emergency… He texted Eileen and asked her to come, she’s on her way now I think. He said he would call you when he could and not to worry…” 

“Where did he go?” Sam asked quickly. 

“Somewhere in Nebraska, hold on-” Sam held his breath while he listened to Jack shift papers around, “Elsmere. Elsmere Nebraska. Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, Jack thank you, you’ve been a big help. Let us know if you hear from Cas. I’ll give him a call now.” Sam said as Dean finally dropped the door handle, shook glass out of his hair, revved the impala’s engine, and peeled out into the street. 

“Sammy,” Dean said harshly, his face a mask, “How far away is Elsmere?” Sam shook his head, GPS already pulled up on his phone, 

“About a twelve-hour drive.” 


	3. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself powerless midway through a hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badass Cas coming up.  
> My favorite stories are ones where you see the monster's perspective so I gave it a go.

The call had said it might be an angel. 

It attacked a small town near Lebanon. The boys were off hunting and the town already had ten kills, so Castiel had gone. He tried to remember exactly why they had told him it was an angel originally… flashes of light? Very clean kills?

It wasn’t an angel. 

His vision swam uncomfortably, his head was pounding. That didn’t seem right. He should have healed himself already. 

The room around him was dark, a few torches on the walls, which seemed macabre even by his standards. Dean would have made a joke by now. He groaned, his head  _ hurt _ . He reached into himself for his rapidly dwindling grace and came up with nothing but an empty feeling like ice at the base of his spine. A small tremor passed through him from the effort and he remembered doing the same thing as the beasts had slammed into him outside the graveyard. His strength had failed. He had assumed it was an effect of the creatures around him and had reached for his grace-

There were things in the room with him, he could just barely make them out. They had left the door open letting in a small puddle of moonlight and a breeze that shifted around the room like a restless cat. Cas squinted out the door, it looked like the graveyard. They must have dragged him here… this would be a tomb, then, which meant only one way out. 

One of the dark shapes stopped in front of him for a moment. Cas tried to zero in on it but his eyes kept shifting of their own accord, he wondered what sort of creature could cause that. Sam might know.

It had felt old, old, and powerful. He had no sense of it now. He felt like he had when he was human, cold, and missing too many of his natural senses to count.

The being spoke to him with a voice like hollow reeds. Cas shook his head. The thing reached forward with a silvery claw and touched the side of Cas’s face. He tried to struggle but found he was tied in place against the wall, ropes looped carefully around two torch brackets. For phantasms, they had put up a good fight. 

“Angel.” Came a voice, it was loud enough to make him wince but somehow reminded him of a whisper. “What is your name?” 

Cas shifted his gaze around the room, waiting for his eyes to fully adjust, trying to ignore that he was human enough for them to need to, and attempting to count how many creatures surrounded him. He had the feeling he wouldn’t know until they wanted him too. 

“Who are you?” he countered. 

Something cold slid across his throat and his breath froze for an instant inside his chest. 

“You are not in a place to bargain, angel.” 

“What do you want?” Cas growled. 

There was a pause and a small huff, almost like a laugh. 

“To talk, angel.” 

Cas clenched his jaw. If they were what was effecting his grace then he would need to call for backup. 

One exit. 

He could see his angel blade lying on the stone tomb in the center of the room, glinting slightly in the moonlight. His phone sat next to that. With his regular strength, he could have simply torn the ropes but he seemed very close to human-level currently, which left his options limited. 

“What is your name?” The creature repeated. Cas squinted slightly. He had been able to see them properly before his grace failed, not that they had much shape even then. 

They knew he was an angel and it seemed important to them.

“Balthazar.” He said, easily. There was a rustling before something hard and cold slammed into his gut. He doubled over, gasping in air. He had forgotten how painful it was to be human. 

“Try again.” Whispered the beings. 

“Ishim.” He gasped. More rustling. “I swear!” he added, still gasping desperately. The creatures shifted, moving too quickly for his eyes to track. 

“ _ Ishim _ .” Came the voices. He looked into their depths, anger, and apprehension crawling slowly up through his gut. He couldn’t die on this hunt, cause yet another mess for Sam and Dean to clean up after… possibly lure them into a trap because he had failed, again. They would feel obligated and his death would be inconvenient in the fight against his father… probably. He wasn’t really sure. He was expendable. But this didn’t seem the way to go. 

He shook himself slightly. No. He was better than that and Dean’s prayer in Purgatory had made it clear that Cas’s death would cause more than another mess for them to tend to. They cared… he couldn’t quite get himself to believe that. He feared if he tried it might be the last thought he had, he wasn’t ready for The Empty yet. He had to finish protecting Jack and the boys from his father. He could handle this, he needed to get back to them. 

Then again, even if these creatures killed him, he doubted it would be permanent as the Empty seemed in no immediate hurry to fetch him. 

“What does an angel want with us?” The voices whispered. Cas tilted his head slightly. 

“You have murdered ten innocents in this town,” he said. There was a loud hiss

“Since when do angels care how many humans we feed upon?” whispered the creatures. Cas winced. 

“Our mission is to protect humanity,” he said. There was more hissing, laughter this time, 

“Oh? Really  _ Ishim _ ? Taking it more seriously now that God is watching, hmmm?” 

Cas thought there were several of them speaking to him in turn, the vocal quality differed slightly. He wondered who their leader was. 

“What are you?” he asked. 

_ How did they know about God’s return?  _

“The locals call us wood devils.” Came the reply, followed by more rustling, apparently, they weren’t all pleased with that information being shared. Perhaps they didn’t have a leader. 

“Where is your Father,  _ Ishim _ ?” This was the lowest voiced rustle. Cas frowned. 

“My father has not been seen for millennia,” he said slowly. The blow came from the left this time and he shuddered with the force of it, something inside of him made an ominous creaking sound, he had a feeling it was a rib. 

“Why do you find us now?” asked the higher voiced creature. Cas shook his head, ignoring his swimming vision,

“Why do you kill so many now?” 

“Why not?” said the high voice

“He obfuscates!” said the low one. “Take what surfaces, he won’t give us anything!” 

Another cold and sharp something pressed gently into Cas’s temple. He clenched his jaw as ice flooded his mind and his headache sharpened drastically.

“Cassstiel.” Came the low voice. Cas flinched. 

“You angels are so proud, you wear your names like titled crowns, they practically drip off of your consciousness.” This was the low voice again. 

“Does it matter who I am?” Cas asked, tugging gently at the rope holding his left wrist. 

“Cassstiel, you are God’s chosen,” said the high voice. Cas felt something sharp and dark bubble up through his throat and he found himself laughing. 

“Right.” He spat. There was silence for a moment. 

“He is not an ally of God?” the high voice again, it sounded resigned. 

“He lies! All angels lie!” said the low voice. 

“I am not an ally of God, nor do I know his whereabouts,” Cas said carefully. He shouldn’t show his hand yet, but the truth seemed the best course. “Why are you suddenly killing so many?” he asked again. 

“Why shouldn’t we?” asked the high voiced one, “God will punish us no matter how we feed. We have survived on carrion for so long… stale, dead meat.” 

Cas tilted his head again, his breath was coming out sharp and his muscles had begun to tighten and protest his position. His head felt hot after the icy cold, like fresh blood. 

“Why stop?” he asked, keep them talking. 

“We are hungry and our time runs short. We have tried for so long to stay out of the way, stay safe, survive. Avoid hunters and stay in the shadows… only take what is left behind but now- now God will punish us anyway.” 

“Why?” Cas asked curiously. He pulled slightly at the right rope. If he tore hard enough he might be able to pull free, but it would not do any favors for his wrist. 

“We didn’t choose to be God’s least favorite.” came the spitting reply. Cas stilled, “He designed us to be hated. Easy tests of valiance for his favorite pets. We were built to die in droves. Monsters are born to be killed and designed with the need to eat! What of your human monsters, what have they done to deserve their punishment? Vampires and Werewolves do not choose to be bitten. We are punished no matter our circumstance, why should it matter to us anymore? We will die anyway, life, while we can, is better than dying with carrion on our breaths.” 

“Hush!” Came the low voice. 

“You kill indiscriminately.” Cas cut in harshly. He tried to push the creature’s arguments from his mind but he understood the logic behind them, they were all one of Chuck’s plot points, all of them… expendable. Guilt and shame twisted knots in his stomach, he had been blind for so long. They all had, of course… but it did not make it forgivable. The monsters were right, Chuck had designed the world to entertain himself. 

“So do humans! So do angels, for that matter.” the high voice one screamed. The sound was sharp and made Cas wince. He opened his mouth but had no counterargument. 

“We had thought, by capturing you, we might make headway in finding out where God is, how long we have before he purges us again from the face of existence. We have never been given a warning, we are simply destroyed.” The low voiced one hissed. Cas felt ill and so, so cold. He thought he had felt guilt but now only felt pity in his gut, heavy and bitter. The anger and horror and self-loathing he had been trying to swallow down seemed to have vanished of their own accord. He felt… empty. 

“But you will be of no use to us. You are broken beyond repair. You will give us no help in this fight. You are barely an angel anymore.” The high voiced one hissed, it’s voice breaking midway through. She feels… despair, Cas thought distantly. A cold sharp claw found its way to his chest and rested just under his collarbone.

“We might as well kill him.” The low voiced creature growled. Cas clenched his jaw, preparing himself for the wave of fear, anger, and fighter’s calm that would come when they attacked him. It never came. 

He simply didn’t care. 

The claw sliced down his chest, blood spilling out around its tip. With a yell, Cas wrenched at the rope holding his right arm. Something in his wrist snapped and the air smelled briefly of burnt skin and blood. A scraping roar bounced off of the stone. The creatures charged him and his vision filled with steely tipped claws and shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also some Cas whumpage. Sorry.


	4. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spell's effect on Dean gets stronger.

Dean swerved off the road a few hours after sunset, just barely pulling Baby into the grass before making a desperate grab for the door handle that no longer worked. He swore quietly before clambering over Sam’s sleeping form. Sam woke with an indignant yelp, nearly shoving Dean the rest of the way out of the car. 

Dean stumbled sideways, hands hitting the soft grass and knees narrowly avoiding asphalt. Sam was saying something that he couldn’t process but he heard the worry in the tone. He tried to wave him off as burning bile tore up his throat and he heaved onto an overly perky looking daisy. Served it right for being so damn cheerful. 

What the Hell could he even be puking up? They had only stopped for quick runs into gas stations for Sam to manage his basic needs. Dean didn’t really have basic needs. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t felt tired, hadn’t been hungry, hadn’t even needed to take a piss. 

He felt the reassuring pressure of Sam’s hand on his back as he wretched again (this time trying to avoid the daisy since it probably didn’t deserve such a gross fate, perky or no.)

“Woah woah, Dean! You ok?” 

His head was spinning, the tingling electric hum that had begun a few minutes ago filling his body like black coffee after a drinking spree. 

He tried to breathe. Maybe it was just another part of Cas’s grace, maybe he would adjust... A whine started in his left ear that he desperately hoped wouldn’t resolve into Angel Radio. Weird electric currents filled his fingers and his vision sharped nauseatingly until he could count every blade of grass around him, starkly contrasting even in the patchy moonlight. He’d rarely felt more conscious that their best friend was something distinctly far from human. 

He dry heaved again. Hot tears streaming down his face. 

“Dean!” Sam insisted. Dean gulped in air and tried to focus on his brother’s face but found himself sidetracked as his brain automatically counted and cataloged all of Sam’s eyelashes and eyebrow hairs and deemed it a healthy number. He felt like he might hurl again. 

No wonder Cas was distractable. Jesus. The sensory input alone was ridiculous.

“S’fine, Sammy,” he grunted. He leaned back against Baby. 

Is this how Cas felt all the time? How did he handle it? Dean felt like he was drowning, the electric tide of energy and… something else, smooth and sparkling like melted honey. He closed his eyes. 

The sensation was bone-deep and almost painful in its strength… a choking overwhelm and sadness that Dean knew weren’t his own. He was quite familiar with his brand of self-loathing and melancholia. It landed somewhere deep in his gut and stayed there until he could drown it in the closest bottle of scotch. This was something new. It filled up his chest and came clamoring forward out of his lungs and into his throat with every breath he took. It was so complete, so all-encompassing, sticky, and oppressive. He opened his eyes and felt a prickling, odd, bitter wonder like a bee sting. He forced himself not to cry. He could smell every flower and plant, feel their makeup against the roof of his mouth as it mingled with the rancid acidity of his own bile and the calming rumble and smokey tang of Baby’s engine.

It was like seeing the world for the first time.

If this was how angels perceived the world… how they felt emotion, no wonder Cas always looked tired. Dean didn’t know how to start to wrap his head around the depth of Cas’s overwhelm at human life… the darkness and anger and pain and… gratitude? Gratitude and something unnamable underneath the layers upon layers of fear, of feeling completely out of place, there was something steady and pulsing and sure. Dean clung to it with all he had.

He dry heaved again. He felt Sam’s hand against his back and a wave of jittering anxiety and concern washed through him at the contact. Oh, Jesus, that must be coming from Sam. 

His hands shook as he wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, the rough fabric scratchy against his skin. He was pretty sure that his little human body wasn’t meant to experience angel emotions sans angel. He wasn’t sure he would have even been able to name them as such if he hadn’t felt some of Michael’s anger while he was possessed. 

He looked up into Sam’s concerned gaze. He felt so damn lost. 

A knot of fear, doubt, anger, and deep deep guilt welled up in his chest and nested there, burying into him. It twinged with humming electricity and an urgency that finally got him off of his knees. 

He shook a hand at Sammy, his whole body tingling. 

“Something’s up with Cas. You’re going to have to drive.” Sam’s eyes widened slightly before he slid into the driver’s seat. Dean sat slowly in the passenger's side and closed his eyes. 

***

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked carefully. Dean peeled his eyes open and turned to look at his brother. 

“It’s like being electrocuted and fried all at once... in slow motion.” He said groggily. He felt like they had had this conversation before, although he knew they hadn’t. He had no concept of how long they had been traveling. He remembered every second of pavement and every shrub they had passed but had no clue how long they had been passing them. More Cas things, he supposed. 

“You said its… Cas’s emotions?” Sam said, jaw clenching and unclenching. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement, one of Sam’s nervous ticks.

“Yeah, I think… I think so. That and just like… angel vision and stuff. I just don’t get if it is like, all of them at once or what he’s feeling right now… is he feeling them too or did I just hijack his whole system?” Dean asked. Sam grimaced. 

“You didn’t hijack anything intentionally.” 

“Irrelevant,” Dean said irritably. Sam sighed. 

“I remember he told me once that angel’s feel differently than humans.”

“That’s an understatement,” Dean confirmed. 

“Yeah, obviously,” Sam said “The witch’s notes kinda imply that the other person loses whatever the spell victim gains but he didn’t do a lot of tests on that. It didn’t affect how much power he could leach off so…” Sam shrugged noncommittally. Dean tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “but we don’t know much about how this spell works and it doesn’t seem like it was designed for angels, judging by the vics,” Sam continued. 

“So it could affect Cas differently?” Dean asked. Sam shrugged,

“I don’t know. I’m just…”

“I know.” Dean said quickly, then added, “how far are we?” 

“About an hour and a half.” 

“Good,” Dean said. He groaned slightly. Sam shot him a concerned look. “He’s…” Dean started, he took a quick breath and stared out the window, trying to parse through the whirling mass of his insides. He vaguely resented having to cope with yet more emotions… like he didn’t have enough of those on his own. Never mind, it was his own damn fault for getting cursed, “He’s upset about… something.” 

“The hunt?” Sam asked, Dean wasn’t looking but he could practically feel the concerned expression intensifying on Sam’s face. 

“I don’t know. He’s… he feels-” Dean scrubbed a hand across his jaw in frustration and turned to look at Sam, “I don’t know, guilty? Maybe a little scared.” Sam nodded grimly. Dean could see every line of tension and blossoming wrinkle on his brother’s face. When had he started developing crows feet? Dean didn’t remember that. Sam was too young to look that tense. 

Dean squinted, focused in, and got lost in the wave of emotions coming off of Sam. After a moment he said “I think… I think Cas must always kinda be able to sense how we are feeling.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up “Like, maybe he doesn’t know how to interpret it like I can’t interpret his…” he made a vague gesture at himself, “cause it is so different from human stuff but  _ I’m _ reading you clear as a bell,” Dean said. Although if he were honest, Dean pretty much always knew what was up with Sam anyway. But if Cas picked up on all that and couldn’t decipher all of it… that would explain a lot.

Sam turned to give him a wide-eyed look. Dean hoped he wasn’t going to get pissed off about some emotional invasion of privacy (he would) but it wasn’t like he could turn it off. He would have to remember to ask Cas how he filtered through all of the junk he picked up on and how the Hell he managed to focus long enough to string together a sentence. 

“What else can you sense?” 

Dean closed his eyes and concentrated. The world felt brighter and he realized why Cas sometimes closed his eyes when he healed them from more intense injuries. 

He could feel Sam’s energy, a low glow deep in Sam’s chest. It reminded him of the light that came from angels when they were being banished… right before he had to look away or risk angelic true form eyeball roasting. He thought of Kevin and flinched away from the sour guilt in his gut. That was definitely not Cas’s. 

“I think… with some practice, I could tell you your heart rate. I can pretty much tell where every injury you have is and-” Dean frowned deeper, “that you were healed recently, by me- er, Cas-” He stopped and opened his eyes quickly. Sam’s eyes were big. 

“That was, uh-.” He said. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, squinting at Sam again, there was something there if he could just focus on it-

“It’s… it’s fine. We’ll-”

“Sarcasm!” Dean yelled as what he was picking up on suddenly clicked. He smacked his hand against Baby’s door and then retracted it quickly to double-check he hadn’t accidentally done more angel-strength damage. 

“What?!” Sam asked, trying to keep an eye on the road while staring at Dean

“You said it’s fine and you didn’t totally believe it. I bet when we say stuff like, oh great or… whatever, when we are being sarcastic it-”

“It messes with Cas’s honesty sensor?” Sam asked, then he nodded, the pieces clicking together. 

“Now I feel like a dick for making fun of him,” Dean grumbled. Sam let out a snort. 

“I mean… he’s adjusted, right?” 

Dean shrugged. Every few minutes he felt like he noticed something new. He swallowed thickly. This was how Cas lived… all the time. Becoming human must have been like he would feel waking up as a squirrel. 

Sam had a bruise on his forehead. Dean zeroed in on it, he wondered if he could heal it. He wasn’t going to try, he didn’t know how to wield Cas’s power and he sure didn’t want to screw it up and injure Sam or Cas. Something in his gut pulled and shifted as he thought about it, though. He closed his eyes again, it pulsed and radiated inside him… familiar. Like a fifty times magnified version of when Cas healed him… warm and blue, smelling like rain and lightning, and unbearably Cas. 

“Sammy,” Dean said quietly

“Yeah?” 

“Drive faster.” 


	5. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys track down Castiel's phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight posting delay. The last few chapters are taking a bit so I may end up posting every other day. Anyway, happy to get this one to ya! Hope you enjoy it.

The speedometer was pushing 85 in a 60 zone and still, the drive felt endless. He remembered some equation from a class he had to take in his first semester at Stanford, it mentioned the faster you went the slower you felt like you were going… or maybe he was making that up. Stanford seemed a bit like another world at this point and his memories of it were starting to fade around the edges. Well, except his memories of Jess but that was a different matter altogether. Even thinking about how much those had faded scared the Hell out of him. 

Dean had fallen silent half an hour ago.

He tried to focus on breathing, like when he went for a jog. Knowing Dean could pick up on his anxiety made it paramount that he keep his emotions in check. 

_Breathe in, Breathe out. Dean will be fine. Cas will be fine._ When he passed a car or lost count on his breathing the witch’s attack played over and over in his head. He tried to ignore the lingering constant doubt that this wasn’t really _them,_ that Chuck was just screwing with them. Making the monkeys dance. Every time he thought he was in control, that he had his fate in his own hands somebody played him. He couldn’t think too hard on that. It made the anger that always licked just beneath the surface harder to keep in check. Normally that was his, his to keep at bay and his to puzzle through and his to solve and understand _._ But now… Dean could probably feel it. Sam tried so hard to keep Dean from knowing just how damn angry this whole thing made him. If he was calm then they could both be calm. When they were calm, they could think things through. No knee-jerk emotional choices. They didn’t have that luxury. Not this time. 

_ Focus on the problem, Sam. Breathe.  _

He had sent the spell notes to Rowena and Eileen when Dean had been driving but he hadn’t felt his phone buzz since. 

He turned on the radio, it blasted some early nineties pop-rock song that he definitely had on his Spotify playlist but could never remember the name of. He was fairly certain Dean would find it a monstrosity on the level of a rabid wendigo… at least. 

Dean didn’t move. Sam felt something tight squeeze in his throat. This was bad. Maybe Cas was just less aware of-

“What the Hell is that?” Dean asked suddenly, head-turning lightning fast to glare daggers at the radio. Sam let out a breath and tried to school his features away from the relieved smile he knew was fighting to surface. Dean gave him a glare and reached for the radio control. 

“Hey, hey!” Sam interrupted quickly. Dean raised an eyebrow at him. Sam grinned, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” 

***

It was almost midnight by the time they got to where they had tracked Cas’s phone. It was a cemetery because of course, it was. Sam had a deep suspicion that he didn’t enjoy horror movies because what other people found cliche, he tended to find relatable.

Dean was becoming increasingly Cas-like. Tiny things that Sam seldom thought about outside of when Cas did them at inappropriate moments; holding eye contact slightly too long or staring at odd things, even squinting his eyes when he was confused. 

When they were about an hour away from the cemetery Dean said quietly, 

“I think Cas is in pain.” 

Sam took his eyes off the road for a moment to shoot Dean a look. 

“You can feel that?” 

Dean shook his head, 

“Not exactly, I can feel how Cas feels about being in pain, which is pissed off but-” Dean fell silent. 

“But?” Sam pressed. 

“He thinks it is… justified?” Frustration laced his voice and Sam knew he was trying hard not to yell, “I don’t know, maybe not that… logical? He understands it.” Dean’s jaw clenched harshly.

Sam shook his head. 

“I mean, sounds like Cas. He tends to be hard on himself. How bad is the pain, can you tell?” he asked. Dean shook his head. 

“No, but he’s really angry now.” 

They parked and slid awkwardly out of the car trying not to squeak the old leather. Jack hadn’t known what they were going up against so they stowed as much gear in their jackets as they comfortably could without risking clinking when they walked. Sam grabbed a few basic first aid supplies and shoved them hastily into his jacket. Who knew what state Cas would be in when they found him. He pushed away the mental images that wouldn’t help any of them and glanced back at Dean.

“After you.” 

Dean nodded, signaling Sam to take the left side. Sam flicked on his flashlight as his senses went into high alert, the familiar hunt apprehension crawling up from the base of his spine, both addicting and terrifying. 

They made their way quietly into the cemetery. Sam kept almost tripping on oddly shaped rocks and patches of grass as he tried to keep a lookout. Eventually, he gave up and kept his light pointed on the ground. Dean hadn’t even taken his flashlight out and hadn’t tripped once.

“There’s no one here, Sammy,” Dean muttered. Sam winced. 

“Then-” he started

His foot connected with something large on the ground and he swore quietly before looking down to see who’s tombstone he needed to be apologizing too. 

A body stretched out in front of him, long and lean, and shadowed. His eyes couldn’t quite keep it in focus no matter how hard he tried. It seemed to blend straight into the darkness, the edges fuzzy like an old movie reel. 

“Dean!” He hissed. Too late, Dean tripped over one of the shadowy things a few steps off. He fell flat into the grass, throwing out a long stream of curses as he landed. 

Apparently he didn’t have all of Cas’s night vision. 

Sam swept his eyes over the graveyard, carefully keeping them out of focus so he didn’t get thrown off by the weird camouflage the things had. His flashlight beam seemed to make the effect worse, he switched it off and stowed it quickly.

Were they dead or just sleeping? If they were asleep surely he and Dean stepping on them would have changed the situation but you couldn’t be too careful. 

And if they were dead, what had killed them? 

Now that he knew how to look he could make out five or six of them around the graveyard, most of them sprawled across the steps and entrance to the largest mausoleum. 

He had almost missed the building entirely when they first entered, probably because of the pile of bodies. Their camouflage made it hard for him to keep his eyes on without a concerted effort. The door to the mausoleum was open slightly and flickering lights played over the steps. 

Sam’s eyes caught on something silver beneath one of the bodies. 

An angel blade. 

“Dean,” Sam said, pointing forward. His heart was hammering against his chest, he wondered if Dean could hear it. 

The moment Dean’s eyes found the blade he took off running. Sam swore and followed, keeping an eye on where the shadowy bodies could trip him up. How many of these things were there? They hadn’t exactly been the quietest so anything alive probably knew they were coming.

Dean crouched by the stairs and unceremoniously shoved the creature down a few steps. He looked surprised for a moment at his own strength before scowling and scooping up the angel blade. Sam kept his gun trained on the mausoleum door. 

Something grunted, low and throaty, the noise echoing off the stone. 

Sam let his instincts take over, gun up, eyes skipping around the darkness beside the tomb to scan for surprise attackers. He could hear Dean breathing beside him and he matched his own breaths to the steady noise. 

A twig cracked as a breeze swept a cloud over the moon, blotting out what little light they had. They crept to the side of the tomb, backs pressed against the wall. Dean glanced over at him, 

“Three,” he whispered. Sam nodded. “Two… One!” 

They rounded the corner into the darkness.

“Hello Dean, Sam.” 

It took a massive force of will to keep Sam from swearing. Dean apparently didn’t possess that because he let out a breathy,

“Son of a bitch” before lowering his gun. 

Sam tried to control his escalating heart rate and took in the scene. 

Cas slumped awkwardly on a jutting piece of stone coming out of the edge of the old mausoleum wall. Moonlight put him into uncertain silhouette every time the clouds shifted and the flickering light from the tomb threw fragmented shadows across his face. Another strange shadowy body lay just beside him, so well camouflaged that at first Sam took it for a tree stump.

Cas looked like a ghost, the circles under his eyes a bruise-y shade of purple and a pale feverish sheen to his skin. Blood stained the collar of his trenchcoat and arced in long splashes across his front and sides. Dried droplets clung to his cheeks, rusty red then deep black in the shifting light.

Sam shot a look at Dean then held his breath.

Dean’s mouth hung slightly open. Silent tears tumbled down his cheeks as he and Cas stared at one another. For once he didn’t even seem aware of Sam’s presence or bothered by his emotional display. Sam’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. 

“Cas,” Dean said, his eyes were wide, lips trembling, trust and anger and love and something horrible and broken boiling just underneath the surface like he might split open at any moment and crack against the tombstones. 

Cas held Dean’s gaze in a glazed, almost disinterested way, maybe more habit than anything. Uncomfortable memories crawled just under Sam’s skin as he watched the two men before him. Chuck’s recent attempts to break him bouncing just under the surface. How much of this was a setup? How much was just their regular shitty luck? 

He cleared his throat. 

Dean jumped, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Cas, you ok?” Sam asked thickly. Cas tilted his head and squinted up at them. 

“I seem to have lost the ability to heal myself.” He said, his voice was hollow and so weak it made Sam’s chest ache.

“Jesus Christ, Cas.” Dean murmured, kneeling. Sam followed Dean’s gaze and took a quick breath. Cas’s right wrist was swollen, rope burns and blood forming a horrible stripe up to his hand like the neck of a hanged man. Looking closer at him Sam could see a cut, like a claw mark, on Cas’s chest, mostly covered by his coat.

“It was necessary to break free before I could fight and negotiate with-” Cas trailed off, his eyes wandering over the bodies. 

“These guys,” Dean filled in, “right.” 

Sam darted his gaze past Cas and his brother and peered towards the tomb door. If he craned his neck he could just barely make out more strange shadow creatures littering the floor. A rope lay across them, a rusty torch bracket bent against the stones on one end, the other side bloody and looped like a lasso. Cas must have yanked his hand out… broken his wrist and pulled free to fight. 

_ Cas is in pain _ Dean had said. 

“Did you kill all of those things, Cas?” Sam asked. There must have been ten or more. Cas looked so weak and judging by Dean’s newly gained abilities, he was basically human. Killing that many was beyond impressive, even with the millions of years of angel combat training. 

Cas tilted his head. He looked frail enough to drown in that trenchcoat. 

“I left a few alive,” he mumbled, “they made a convincing argument.” 

“They-” Sam stopped himself. It didn’t matter. “So there are more around?” 

“Probably.” 

Dean placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder. His eyes searched Cas’s face like he wanted to pull it apart at the seams. 

“Cas, what are these things?” Sam asked. Cas shook his head, 

“I don’t know. They said locals call them Wood Devils… we may have something about them in the Bunker library but I doubt it. They have apparently been mostly peaceful for…” Cas trailed off, breath coming out in short spasms. 

“Hey, its ok, Cas.” Sam said quickly. There were more. They had to move. 

“Dean, do you get a sense of Cas’s injuries?” he asked. Dean jumped slightly like he was being woken up, head tilting to the side. Sam swallowed. Dean was becoming more and more Cas-like by the second. There couldn’t be much left for him to take.

If this was Chuck playing with them- They would deal with it. Chuck could screw with them all he wanted. They would beat the bastard. He bit back the dull heat and anger in his throat and focused on his brother. 

“Dean?” he repeated.

Dean nodded slowly, 

“Yeah, the wrist obviously, there’s a deep cut across his left side and his left ribcage has extensive bruising, one of the ribs is cracked. He has ten deep cuts and five severe bruises up his right side, a mild concussion, two broken knucklebones-”

“Can you heal him?” Sam said, doing a quick mental rundown of the hospitals they had passed on the way. Dean’s eyes widened

“I don’t know,” Dean said quietly. His hand clenched angrily at his side like he was itching to punch something. 

Cas’ head dropped from a slight tilt to hanging limply as they spoke. 

“Try,” Sam said gently. Dean’s closed his eyes,

“Sammy, I-”

“You don’t know how, but Cas does.” 

Dean stared at him for another moment, then nodded. He cupped Cas’s chin gently with his left hand, raising his head until their eyes met. Sam wasn’t sure what he was looking for… Cas didn’t even seem like he was really seeing them. Dean placed two fingers against Cas’ forehead head in a gesture that was achingly wrong coming from Dean

_ Come on.  _ Sam thought.

The skin on Cas’ wrist knitted together and the cut down his side vanished into his flesh. Something shifted in the woods to his left. He thought he could make out something glinting. Whatever the reason Cas had left them alive… Sam didn’t trust it. Not right now. Not with how dead behind the eyes Cas looked. 

Dean fell back against his haunches as he finished the last of his healing. 

“They’re not far off.” he said quietly, nodding to the trees “but they are hesitating… Cas feels…” Dean paused, clearly searching for the words, “he feels like they might not attack us.” 

“Great.” Sam mumbled. Dean swayed slightly as he got to his feet and Sam put out a hand. 

“I’m fine, the healing just… took a lot.” His skin had a pale sheen and his knees didn’t seem too stable. Sam caught him as he lurched towards the wall.

“I’m Ok!” Dean hissed. 

Cas groaned and Sam held Dean back with an arm to his chest. 

“It’s ok, Dean. Go to the car, I’ll get Cas.” 

“Sam. It’s my responsibility. I’ve got this!” Dean protested, shoving against Sam’s hand.

“No, Dean! It isn’t and you don’t! If you hadn't stepped in front of me this could just as easily have been me and you know it. You got cursed, it happens. It's both of our responsibility.” Sam insisted. He glared at Dean, ignoring the way Dean’s eyes narrowed like Cas but his jaw clenched like Dean. Right now he would outstare them both. 

The thing in the woods let out a strange creaking moan and Sam saw Cas turn to face it, hands grasping around, presumably for his blade. Sam spoke quickly and quietly.

“Dean, we don’t want you weakening Cas by wearing out his strength. We know nothing about this spell or what damage we could accidentally do to Cas's grace!” Sam said, making sure he held his brother’s gaze. Dean and Cas were stubborn enough separately this had the possibility of being borderline ridiculous. They didn’t have time. 

Dean seemed to deliberate for another moment before the give in his knees convinced him. 

“I’ll cover you by the gate.” he said. He stole another half glance at Cas before he left, gun trained on the trees to his right. Sam let out a breath. At least that seemed a bit more… Dean. 

“Hey, Cas?” Sam asked gently. Cas’s hands were limp against the stones like a puppet with its strings cut and his head lolled awkwardly against the wall. 

“Sam.” Cas croaked. 

Sam glanced back at the things in the trees and winced. They were closer than before. 

“Can you stand?” Sam asked, putting a hand against Cas’ shoulder, mirroring what he had seen Dean do. 

“Theoretically,” Cas said dryly but with no real humor to it. He shifted and 

his cell phone clattered against the stones. Sam flinched, eyes darting back to the trees. At this rate he might just have to carry Cas and make a run for it. Cas stared at his phone. “I’m- sorry?” He said, like he was confused by the concept. Sam swallowed. 

“Hey, take it easy. I got you.” Sam scooped up the phone and stowed it in his jacket. Cas’ eyes looked like dull stone. “I’m going to help you up now,” Sam said. Cas nodded. 

“Thank you, Sam. You are very kind.” The words sounded wooden, automatic and far too loud. How many automatic speech habits had Cas integrated in to make them more comfortable? He slung Cas’ arm over his shoulder, thinking back to the Castiel they met when John Winchester had come back, the Cas that had never met them. The empty way that he had stared, willing to kill them on a word. The blankness in his eyes as he had thrown punch after punch at Sam, the way Dean had pleaded with him...

Sam clenched his jaw, eyes stinging slightly. He wasn’t ready to lose their best friend, not like that. “OK, here we go. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.


	6. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They search for a countercurse.

The sudden light of the bunker garage made Cas wince. There was something heavy on his shoulder… Sam’s hand. It felt like lead. 

The boys had explained… something about a witch, a spell. He would get himself back shortly. 

That was good. It must be good. 

Sam and Dean said it was good. 

Dean’s healing had helped, the tickle of his own grace inside his skin. Dean’s care and concern and focus filling Cas’s mind and body. Reminding him what the emotions he had worked so hard for were supposed to feel like. The residue of it held on in his chest, fragile and delicate as a cobweb. He clung to it with all he had. He didn’t think that happened when he healed someone… perhaps it was just because Dean was not truly an angel, just possessing the power of one. He couldn’t help but seep his emotions into everything he did. 

“Hey Cas, we’re home,” Sam said. 

Getting out of the car was difficult. His limbs felt like they weighed more than they properly aught too. 

He didn’t remember that from being human.

His feet slipped down the first few stairs and he grasped at the railing before Dean pulled one of Cas’s arms up and over his shoulder, half carrying him down the stairs. He lost his footing several times, Dean kept him upright. 

The room was spinning. The lights looked like tiny suns. 

What time was it? He had no idea. 

The bunker door slammed shut behind them and Cas heard a yell. 

“Cas! Sam! Dean! Are you ok? What’s happened?” 

Jack. Sam had called him from the car just before Cas dozed off. Some of the tension in his face released and he smiled slightly. Half muscle memory and half the healing twinge in his chest. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs and he slumped against the railing. Dean disentangled their arms. Jack stopped in front of him, eyes searching his face before his arms wrapped around Cas, his head resting lightly on his shoulder. Cas grasped desperately at the railing as Jack’s additional weight almost toppled him. 

“Careful, Kid!” Dean warned. He was smiling a soft smile like he was unsure of how it had got there. Cas frowned. He looked at the light hair pressed against his shoulder. 

Hugs… How did those work? 

How long could muscle memory possibly hold out in a body that had been his for little more than an eyeblink’s time in the scheme of things? 

“I missed you,” Jack said quietly. Cas looked at Dean, unsure what the correct response should be. He knew he cared about Jack but he didn’t truly miss much of anything right now. 

He needed to sit down. 

Dean’s jaw was clenched and his eyes sparkled slightly. 

Jack pulled away and stared, his eyebrows coming together sharply and tension pinching his features. Cas put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hello, Jack.” He said. That seemed like something he would say. He noticed Sam wince. 

“Well, hello boys,” came a woman’s voice, high with a lilting accent. Cas looked up and took in the two women standing behind Jack. Rowena in the center of the room, her head held high, a book in her hand. Her hair was piled up on her head in an updo that Cas was fairly certain employed magic to stay in place. Her long black dress pooled around her feet on the floor. 

Eileen leaned against the wall to Rowena’s right, arms folded over a black jacket. He wondered how long it had taken her to get to the Bunker. He had been so concerned about leaving Jack... Where in his body was concern supposed to dwell? He couldn’t recall. 

Eileen smiled at him before walking quickly towards Sam. They signed back and forth and Sam’s face broke into a smile. Some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. 

The gaping hole in Cas’s chest where he knew his fondness and care and whatever other things he remembered he should be feeling were supposed to be seemed to yawn a little wider, the cobwebs stretching thinner. His legs were starting to shake, the hand on Jack’s shoulder was now the only thing keeping him balanced. Should his heart be beating that fast? 

“Well, you look like Hell, I should know,” Rowena said, striding forward. Cas tilted sideways, met Jack’s gaze for an instant, and decided that sitting down was the most pressing matter.

He flicked his eyes towards the War Room table, Jack seemed to get the idea and brought Cas’s arm around his shoulder. They walked slowly, Cas’s feet were disinclined to leave the floor. Jack was not as strong as Dean but he was determined, he half dragged him to a chair.

The lights really were very bright. Were they always so bright? He squinted at the clock. It swam in his vision. 

People were speaking in the other room. He couldn’t concentrate on the sound. Jack brought him a glass of water. The liquid felt heavy in his stomach but it cleared his head somewhat.

Dean cleared his throat and fixed the room with a stare, Sam, Rowena, and Jack all shifted like they were being called to attention. Eileen just raised an eyebrow. It reminded Cas of when he had commanded his own Flight. 

Dean waited a moment, making sure everyone was paying attention and turning so he was sure Eileen could see his mouth. Dean’s gaze held more weight than usual, something about him seemed to fill up additional space. 

“Alright,” Dean said, “What’s our plan?” 

***

Dean sat beside Castiel. Cas closed his eyes and tried to sense for the grace he knew Dean held within him, the shifting power that would give him himself back. He smelled bacon that Dean had burned that morning and wrinkled his nose as his stomach churned halfheartedly.

“Samuel was correct, the witch created the spell in question himself. However, since he was employing it as a one-use system: drain, and then steal, he doesn’t seem to have come up with a countercurse.” Rowena said from across the table. Cas opened his eyes to peer at her. He could feel Jack standing just behind him. 

Eileen squinted across the table at Rowena before elbowing Sam and signing something irritably. Sam frowned. 

“Who the Hell makes a spell without a cure?” Dean muttered

“I hooked up everything we know about it into the Men of Letter’s computer system.” Eileen cut in, “with Jack’s help” she added, giving Jack a smile, “we managed to compile a list of all the spells that seemed in any way similar.” 

“From there-” Rowena took over quickly, “I got to work on a counterspell.” She said the last part with a nod at Dean, who tilted his head and squinted at her. 

“She says we owe her,” Jack said pointedly. His voice was loud in Cas’s ears.

“You do, dearies.” Rowena said with a grin, “Or you will. First I have to figure out how I am supposed to combine six spells into one without it blowing up in our faces.” 

“Six spells?” Sam asked. Rowena nodded.

“There isn’t anything on how to return strength, lifeforce, grace, and whatnot all at once, not even in The Book of the Damned. And while most of the books on angels I have read agree that they can exhibit emotions, there certainly aren’t any spells dealing with the topic. Unless we find something else, I might have to make that bit up as I go.” She said, giving Castiel a look. He met her gaze steadily. “Eileen has been fabulous. She would make a good witch, that one.” Rowena added, her grin turning almost predatory. Sam signed something to Eileen, who rolled her eyes.

“In your dreams, Rowena,” She said. 

“Now dear, you didn’t appreciate me trying to broadcast directly into your thoughts- I thought since my accent was difficult for you to read... I said I’m sorry,” Rowena said. 

Cas’s head started to ache again. 

“Good start,” Eileen said with a grimace, “but witchcraft isn’t my style, even if I forgive the invasion of privacy.” 

“I could help,” Cas said. They all turned to look at him. He had sunk far into his chair and straightened up with an effort. “Unless any of you have a greater level of expertise on angels.” He added. He hoped it would come off as humor. It seemed like something he might have said before. Dean smiled. 

Good. He had been right. 

“Can’t argue you there, Cas,” Sam said. The little cobwebs in Cas’s chest gave a twinge. 

***

Cas took a moment to rest in between reading spell after spell that Rowena placed in front of him. Certain languages that he had known how to read since their invention were getting hazy in his mind. He wondered if soon he would only be speaking Enochian. That could be problematic. 

Other than his pounding headache and physical weakness, he felt much as he had when he was a part of the heavenly host. The overwhelming confusion of emotions that had haunted him since coming to earth… since falling… probably since before that, if Naomi was to be believed, had finally dissipated. The constant hum of how often he failed... Neither angel nor human. No decision he made would be approved of by both. 

It didn’t matter. 

The angels were right. It was easier this way. No more rebellion, no more impossible choices. 

He was so tired. 

Jack sat across the table, eyes on a book. He had brought Cas tea and a sandwich, neither of which he had managed to stomach more than a taste or two of. Jack looked up and smiled at him, 

“Do you need anything?” Jack asked, worry obvious behind his eyes. Cas smiled back. That’s what he did with Jack, right? Smiled? Jack would notice if he got it wrong. That could hurt him. That was unacceptable. 

“No, Jack. Thank you. I’m just resting.” Jack nodded. 

“Let me know if-”

“I will.” 

Jack gave a forced smile, then went back to scouring his book of angel lore. He looked like Kelly when he smiled Cas noted. 

Kelly.

Cas sat forward in his chair, it made his ribs ache. 

If Cas couldn’t feel than he could never be happy. If he couldn’t feel then the Empty could not take him. If he couldn’t feel than he would not need to break his promise to Kelly by dying without knowing if Jack would remain protected. If he couldn’t feel he would not need to leave Dean or Sam. 

That is what he had wanted, wasn’t it? He couldn’t remember exactly how emotions were supposed to work but he didn’t need too. He could just go ahead acting as he thought he would have acted before. Keeping his promises, making the right gestures…saying the right words. 

The tiny fragments from Dean’s healing that still stirred around his chest felt tight and thin but he held onto them. 

He could guarantee that he would live to help with the fight with Chuck and he would never have to break his oath to protect the Winchesters and Jack. 

He remembered the feeling of that… the ache in his chest whenever he thought about leaving them. It wasn’t there now but surely that same principles applied. This was what he had wanted… more than anything. He had wanted to not have to leave them. 

It was so easy. 

He looked back down at the spellbook Rowena had left him to peruse. He would be of no use in his current state so he would have to find whatever spell Rowena was using to put his emotions back… alter it to just take back his power and his grace. No emotions, no Empty. 

It made sense. 

It was logical. 

His left leg twitched of its own accord and he took a moment to stare at it. His body was increasingly disobedient and judging by the internal pain, his organs were getting the memo that slowing down was the general trend. 

He was running out of time. 

Dean trudged back into the War Room, full coffee mug in hand. He paused, eyes on Jack, shoulders tense. Cas looked up at him and waited for the slight constriction in his chest, the fondness that was always just under the surface… It didn’t come. Perhaps because the only emotions that he had left were not his own. Dean felt little fondness for himself. 

“Uh, Hey, Jack?” Dean said awkwardly. Jack looked up and his hand tightened on his book. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Would you mind helping Sam and Eileen out with the spell ingredients? Rowena is a bit… forceful. I think they could use another set of hands.” Jack glanced at Cas, unspoken worry heavy in the look. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Dean said gently. Jack nodded and slid silently from the table. 

Dean put a hand against the map table, then placed his full coffee down. He didn’t look at Cas. Cas glanced back down at the spell in front of him. Dean clearly wanted to talk but Cas didn’t know if he had time. Should he tell Dean his idea? No… Dean didn’t know about the deal with the Empty and it didn’t seem like something he would take well. 

But-

Dean also valued honesty. Cas tilted his head. It had seemed so clear when he had emotions… that he shouldn’t tell Dean. It would... Distract him, maybe cause him pain? He wasn’t sure anymore. Something in his chest began to throb and his lungs let out a loud rattle when he breathed out. 

That was inconvenient.

Dean pulled up a chair next to Cas. 

“Hello.” He said. Cas stared. Human formalities were so cumbersome. Was the greeting worth the energy? He couldn’t decide. “I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean began, jaw tight. Cas blinked. 

“Why?” 

“I shouldn’t have let that witch get a shot at me. I should have been better at my job, There’s no reason you should have to be dealing with...” he gestured at Cas’s slumped form. 

Dean had stopped speaking, he must want Cas to say something. What would he say normally?

“You are good at your job,” Cas said. It was the first thing that came to mind and it was true. His headache was building behind his eyes. He flipped a page in the spellbook in front of him. The cobwebs in his chest felt even weaker now. He had to finish this before they snapped and he had no resolve to keep going.

Dean shook his head, hands clenching on the table. 

“How do you feel, Cas?” 

“I don’t,” Cas said, honestly. Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face, Cas flipped another page. This one was in Enochian. That was promising. 

“Yeah, I know. I mean… Is there anything else… happening?” He asked. Cas squinted at him. 

“Define happening.” 

Dean sighed.

“Damn it Cas. Is everything else… there? You still seem like there’s some you in there. You’re not… I don’t know… Comatose or anything.” He said, face quiet and intense, searching Cas’s features. 

“I am weakening,” Cas said quietly. Dean’s jaw clenched. “My memories have been tampered with so many times. I am not sure I will know when I begin losing them.” He mused. He paused for a moment then added “I couldn’t understand Sam and Eileen’s sign conversation.” 

“I could,” Dean said grimly. He wanted Cas to say more, was trying to get him to engage. Cas wished he would just leave him be. Let him just read and then rest. 

This spell didn’t say anything specific about angelic emotions but it used a few terms that could have multiple meanings… old code from before angels liked to admit that they even had emotional capability. He flipped to the front cover. 

_ First edition. Co-authored by A. Kobel and L. Sunder in 1893 _

That was very promising. He flipped back to the page. He could work with this, which meant Rowena probably could, too. 

Dean was waiting. 

“How do  _ you _ feel?” Cas asked. He looked up and met Dean’s intense, wide-eyed gaze. Dean was silent for a moment,

“I feel what you should be feeling.” 

“Is that unpleasant?” Cas asked. As soon as the words left his mouth he found that he didn’t really care about the answer, he was just talking, talking to Dean. 

“Sometimes,” Dean said, his voice slightly hoarse. Cas nodded. He needed to keep his eyes open. Couldn’t afford to fall asleep. 

“We’ll fix you up soon,” Dean said. 

“If you think that’s best. I will certainly be more useful with my grace back” His eyes drifted closed.

“Cas!” Dean said, fist slamming on the table. Cas didn’t move. “Of course, it’s best! We’ll get you back to strength and… and your usual-” Dean trailed off. Cas opened an eye blearily to look at him. He didn’t recognize the expression there. “We want you back, Cas. You aren’t useless. Ever.”

Cas frowned, the feeling in his chest intensified briefly

“If you think so, Dean,” he said. His eyes drifted closed. He needed to stay awake… find a way to fix the spell. “I might be more useful without the emotions…” He mumbled. A deep fog was starting to overtake his brain and he couldn’t quite remember what he had meant to say. He needed to keep something from Dean, though. He was sure of that.

“Isn’t that what Naomi wanted? To make you a blank slate, a machine?” Dean asked. 

Cas nodded again. His stomach ached but he didn’t feel hungry. 

“Very efficient.” 

He waited a few moments until he could hear Dean’s chair scrape slowly back and his footfalls recede down the hall. Cas forced his eyes open, gaze falling on Dean’s abandoned coffee. He reached forward and slowly ripped the spell page from the book, keeping close to the book’s spine so it looked undamaged. The effort was stunning. His fingers cracked like dry twigs and as the last fragments of paper pulled free his wrist gave out, pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulders. 

It didn’t matter. He forced his wrists back into action, pain overtaking his failing body as he folded the paper and shoved it into his inside jacket pocket. His wrists fell limply by his sides. His eyes closed. He searched vainly in his chest for the leftover emotion of his healing. 

He was so cold.


	7. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They attempt to cure the spell on Cas and Dean

Dean leaned his head against the hallway wall. The electric hum of Cas’s emotions ebbed slowly as Cas fell asleep. Dean took a deep breath, reveling in the relative silence in his head. He peeked around the doorway and looked at Cas’s limp frame, checking his heart rate and breathing pattern as he did so. 

OK, but what the Hell? 

He knew being emotionless could make you a bit of a dick but Cas had been very consciously lying to him. The remorse and hopelessness and fear had nearly overwhelmed Dean. It had been a struggle to even keep words coming out. Cas was so angry at himself for lying, but also so damn conflicted. Whatever emotionless Cas was pulling apparently had some validity… but not enough. That was a relief at least. Emotion Cas was definitely not on board with whatever crap Lt. Cmdr. Data Cas was pulling. 

He took another few breaths against the wall before he made his way back. Cas had left the book open and when Dean looked closely he could just make out the fray of a torn page. 

What the Hell?

He crouched awkwardly, feeling around in Cas’s trench coat pockets. He felt like a creep but he didn’t have time for pride right this second. That lie had been loud and… urgent. It came off of Cas in waves. Dean wondered if he felt that way to Cas when he lied. 

Probably not. 

_ Hopefully _ not. 

Shit. 

Dean shook his head.  _ Focus _ . 

His brain finally felt a bit more like his own, since Cas apparently wasn’t dreaming anything too dramatic. He had to use that to his advantage before more angel emotions turned on… and before he allowed himself to get in his head about it. Trying to get used to hearing Sam’s boomy rumble four rooms away was enough to cope with right now. 

There was nothing in either of the outside trench pockets. He hoped Cas was deeply enough asleep to not sense Dean’s presence. He felt around the inside coat pockets. Keys, some wadded up money, a few scraps of paper, something soft that turned out to be a pressed dandelion, and two badly bent photographs. One of Jody, Claire, Sam, and Dean all laughing about something. Dean smiled, he remembered Cas asking for that photo when Dean had shown it to him. The other was of Kelly and it looked like one that had been taken when she was still working at the White House. Her smile was bright and a little forced. 

The other inner pocket held a picture that Sam had taken of Jack and the mixtape that Dean had given him. Dean didn’t dwell on that. 

With a sigh he leaned closer, forehead almost brushing Cas’s as he rooted around the outside suit jacket pockets, which were empty. This was definitely pushing his luck but Cas’s heart rate hadn’t changed. Dean took a deep breath, smelling and tasting the stale bacon in the kitchen, the coffee in his mug on the table (which had tasted like molecules, Cas was right… it wasn’t pleasant) and the particular smell of Cas’s coat half like the Impala and half just Cas… fresh and earthy from the graveyard with the hint of the blood drying on his clothes. 

_ Focus Dean. _ Jesus. 

He leaned further in and reached into the left inside pocket. He held his breath. He was so close to Cas he could count the soft wrinkles around his eyes and the veins running just beneath his skin. His hand brushed a thick piece of paper and he pulled it out, wincing at the crinkling. He let out a breath as he stepped away, then gave the sleeping angel a sarcastic grin. 

“Nice try, Sunshine.” 

His grin faded as he watched Cas’s shallow breathing. He looked almost dead and Dean had already seen that  _ way _ too many times. He opened the paper and studied it. Enochian. Figures. He squinted at it, he could kinda make out a few of the words but nothing too solid. Making out any of it was freaky enough.

What was Cas hiding? He folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket, listening hard for Rowena’s high voice through the walls. She would know what this was… hopefully. His eyes caught on the blood smeared across Cas’s jacket and he took a moment to just stare. 

How did Cas cope? The queasy whirl of emotion… the crazy eyesight and hearing and smell… not even being able to sleep to turn it off for a minute. Add in prayers and angel radio- 

Could he hear prayers now? 

He should ask Sam. That could be entertaining… or loud as Hell, depending on how deep into the “kid brother” zone Sam decided to push it. 

Better not. 

_ Focus _ . 

He had a better handle on things now than he had in the graveyard at least. He leaned gently against the map table, eyes tracing the deep welts under Cas’s eyes, the way his skin seemed to hug him tighter than normal. 

Sam hadn’t brought up his meltdown in the cemetery yet and boy was that not a conversation he was looking forward too. It wasn’t even like Cas’s emotions at seeing Dean were so different from what he felt when he saw Cas but Dean shoved everything down, down and back and away from him as hard as he could.

He’d been floored by how happy it made Cas, just to see them. Then that choking awful feeling had crawled up Dean’s throat and lodged there, leaving Sammy to handle everything in the cemetery. He couldn’t fathom how much Cas thought he was letting them down. Constantly. An angel of the friggin lord (not that being Chuck’s kid constituted bragging rights at this point, but still) 

Dean didn’t have any angelic squadron to turn down or any father left to disappoint but he would give his life, he would give all he had to save Cas if he needed him. 

Cas knew that. That was the worst part. He knew and had convinced himself completely that it made no sense, that it was just out of the kindness of Sam and Dean’s hearts that they accepted him at all. He clearly wasn’t worth it. 

It was all so achingly familiar that it had taken Dean a moment to realize that the initial shock of it hadn’t come from himself. 

He never felt good enough, never had, and never would. He’d accepted that. The only person that had ever made him feel like he might be worthwhile was Sam. Everyone else he had managed to disappoint enough where they left or had failed them enough that they had died. Except for Cas. Sam and Cas and Jack, (if Jack could ever forgive him and if he could ever forgive himself for almost shooting the kid). They made him worthwhile.

They were always good enough. 

***

“You’re sure he hid it? Rowena said it should work for the emotional part so-”

Dean kept his eyes closed. It was better than being able to see every thread in Sam and Jack’s jackets. They were outside Dean’s room and he had half a mind to just hide in there with the lights off and tune out the world. 

“So he was trying to keep us from putting his emotions back,” Dean said, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the wall. At his current strength maybe he could crack it. That could be nice. Cathartic 

“It makes sense,” Sam said unexpectedly. Dean opened his eyes, wincing at the light, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Like when I was soulless and didn’t want my soul put back in… When you can’t feel anything it’s hard to remember why you would want too.” Sam said, shrugging. 

“It’s like you know that you should feel something, you remember that you used too but there’s nothing there to connect those memories too,” Jack said quietly. Dean and Sam turned to look at him. He was staring at the ground. Sam shot Dean a concerned glance before putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Dean clenched his jaw. He wished he knew how Sam just… forgave people for shit and then moved on. He was working on it but he sure as Hell wasn’t there yet. 

“Exactly,” Sam said. Jack didn’t seem to hear him, he was frowning in deep concentration at the floor like he was trying to work out a puzzle. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, wishing for a moment that Cas wasn’t asleep and he could still access his emotions… they helped clear his head where Jack was concerned. 

Jack frowned deeper and Damn the kid looked so much like Cas. Did he think like him, too? Feel like he did? Did he have to cope with both angel emotions and human? Maybe Jack lived like Dean was living now but every damn day. 

“So we have all of the ingredients except the Basilisk egg and the Kombu. Rowena’s going to send a demon to get the egg and I’ll-” Sam stopped, eyes widening, “wait, I think I have some Kombu in the fridge.” 

“what the Hell is Kombu?” Dean asked. Sam had the grace to look embarrassed and looked down quickly. 

“Seaweed.” 

“What?”

Sam looked up defiantly, 

“It’s a type of seaweed, Dean and it’s healthy.” 

“Dude, that’s not even rabbit food that’s like-

“Shut up.” 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

***

Dean carried Cas outside. They all gathered around the small tree that was apparently a necessity of the spell. 

_ Seriously, Sam? It has to be under a tree? _

_ Not my idea! Look, we’re just lucky its a native plant and not extinct or something _

It had been fifteen minutes and 36 seconds since Sam, Rowena, and Eileen had started setting up the ingredients. 15 minutes and 36 seconds that he had been staring at Cas… but it didn’t feel like anything. An eye blink. 

Cas shifted slightly on the grass, his head lifting from where Dean had propped it against the tree trunk, and peeled open his eyes. 

“Are you watching over me?” He said at length. Dean let out a bark of laughter, yes, yes he absolutely had been and in Cas’s head that wasn’t weird at all, even with all of the shit Dean had given him for it over the years. 

“Don’t get used to it,” Dean said with a smile. Cas squinted at him. Dean smiled at the little electric hum in his gut. He turned around and let the buzz of Cas’s confusion, apprehension, and everything else wash over him. 

There were 2,000 insects in the field beside them, 864 of which were spiders, 10 were bees. 

“You guys ready?” Sam asked, walking quietly to stand beside them. Cas stared up at him vacantly. 

“Should I be?” He asked after a moment. Dean swallowed. Cas always had a sort of wonder at Sam, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how Sam managed to just be… Sam. How he hadn’t crumbled when the wall in his head went down. There was so much damn guilt there, too. Dean swallowed. 

“We’re ready.” He said.

They had set up the ingredients on a small table that Rowena had dragged from somewhere. Dean crouched down next to Cas, leaning his head against the rough tree bark. Sam and Jack spoke quietly a few steps off. Dean made a conscious effort not to eavesdrop. 

Mingled anxiety and doubt roiled his stomach. The anxiety was his, the doubt was Cas. He was getting better at this. That probably wasn’t good, all things considered.

Rowena nodded to Eileen. Dean frowned. That was new. 

“You ready boys?” Rowena asked. Dean nodded, looking over at Sam and Jack, who were both staring at him. Sam nodded tightly. 

Rowena threw something green into the bowl (maybe the damn seaweed) before slicing her hand letting the blood trickle down. She raised her head, pointed both hands at Cas and Dean and yelled into the cloud of rising yellow smoke;

“Ne sit in potestate rediit. Duo rursus in duo scinditur.

Congrua virtute sua vindicat dominus-” As she finished the word she collapsed sideways into the grass. Dean tried to get up but found himself wrapped in yellow smoke. Cas’s head lolled alarmingly to the side. 

“Rowena!” Sam yelled, he and Jack took off running but Eileen had already stepped behind the bowl and pointed towards the boys, her posture mimicking Rowena’s. She grabbed Rowena’s notes in one hand,

“fiat angelus, daemonium, mortalis, aut bestia.

Restituere magicae et converterent se ad sui ipsius.” She yelled. 

Sam grabbed at her as she too tripped sideways, but unlike Rowena, she stayed conscious. 

“I’m ok, Sam. Its a power spell. It needed a sacrifice of power to work.” 

Sam said something back but Dean couldn’t hear. A high pitched whine filled his ears and he choked on the cloying yellow smoke as it crawled down his throat and filled his nose with the smell of seawater and blood. 

He fell against the earth, shadows filling the corners of his eyes. Cas slipped sideways, landing harshly beside him. 

Someone was yelling. 

Something powerful began to fill out the empty spaces in his head, hot and crackling, like the sky just before a rainstorm. 

Cas screamed. 

Dean turned, groping for Cas’s shoulder through the yellow fog. He pitched forward, his hand landing against Cas’s chest. He could just barely make out Cas’s face, skin so pale it was almost translucent. It seemed to be sinking in against his bones. Cas opened his eyes, blank and yellow. 

Cas’s heart beat against his palm, echoing up through his senses and sending ice down his spine. 

Thumpthump

Thumpthump

Thump

Dean opened his mouth, not sure if what would come out was a yell, a sob, or a prayer. Sam’s voice from the cemetery sounded in his mind

_ You don’t know how but Cas does.  _

Dean’s eyes widened, 

“Castiel! Castiel! Angel of Thursday!” He said. He didn’t know where the title had come from but it sparked something in his mind. He opened his eyes. “Castiel!” He yelled again. Cas’s eyes came barely into focus, the yellow thinning around his pupils. Dean took a breath and let his panic consume him. Grace and light filled his chest. He aimed it all at Cas’s failing heart. 

“Don’t you dare!” He growled, teeth clenched. Something yanked in his chest. He was using too much, too much grace and power to keep Cas alive. His eyes fell on Rowena’s body in the grass and he gasped as Cas’s memories, humming like Baby’s motor, overtook his own. 

_ Rowena in a dark warehouse, chains dangling from her wrists, Sam standing in the corner, anger in his eyes.  _

Dean closed his eyes again. 

“No no no no no no no-” He heard himself chanting under his breath. 

“What do we do?” Sam yelled. 

“Dean!” Jack was close to him. 

The twist in his chest was getting worse, like someone yanking a rope. He couldn’t sustain this. He didn’t know how much grace there was to burn through. 

“Jack-” he gritted out. He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of shadowy wings in his periphery. They made his chest ache. 

The yellow was fading from his vision, spidery shadows creeping in in its stead. He felt the grace fading, stuttering out like a power short, his grip on Cas intensified. “Come on man, I’ve got you.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew without looking that it was Jack. 

“Breathe, Dean,” Jack said quietly. “Focus on where you want the grace to go.” Dean nodded, swarmed with memories that weren’t his own. 

_ Because I love you, Jack- _

“Jack-” Dean choked. 

The yellow smoke surrounded him again, Rowena’s voice filtered through the blaze of pain that engulfed his head. It sounded like Latin. 

“Come on Cas. Stay with me.” 

Cas’s eyes came back into focus and he met Dean’s gaze. Energy and electricity coursed through Dean, memory upon memory tumbling through his mind, he couldn’t remember which were Cas’s and which his own anymore. 

_ You don’t think you deserve to be saved?  _

_ If I plan to do anything else stupid, I’ll let you know.  _

_ for what again? Oh, that’s right – to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human- _

_ Cas- I hope you can hear me- _

Something bright and burning rose out of Dean’s chest. He curled in on himself as his insides lit up with spiking pain. His hand slid sideways and his fingers lost their hold on Cas. His heart was hammering like it wanted to jump out of him and follow the tingling electricity that streamed through his chest. A hand tightened around his arm and he forced himself to keep his eyes open, to see through the smoke and pain, and look into Castiel’s eyes. Cas leaned over him, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, eyes blazing blue and shadowy wings filling the air around him, the dark feathers broken and twisted against the yellow smoke. 

“Cas-” Dean choked. 

“Hello, Dean” 

Cas put a hand on his forehead as more blood began to trickle from the side of his mouth. 

Dean’s vision blanked out and the world faded into blue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin translation: (according to Google translate, I apologize if it is incorrect!)  
> Let the power be returned.  
> Split two back in two.  
> The rightful owner claims their power, be it angel, demon, mortal, or beast.   
> Reverse the magic and restore self to self.


	8. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion: Sam finds out some new information and Dean and Cas deal with the repercussions of the spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter here we go! 
> 
> I really love Eileen.

Sam was running, yellow smoke clinging to his flannel and blurring his vision. He waved at it, landing haphazardly on the grass beside his brother and Cas. He was vaguely aware of Jack already leaning over Cas and of Eileen’s hand on his shoulder a moment after his knees hit the ground. 

One second Cas had been looming over Dean, eyes blazing blue, air crackling, and wings spread across the yellow smoke, and then with a horrible choking sound, he had crumbled. It was like someone had severed his connection. He had fallen like a discarded toy. 

Sam felt desperately for Dean’s pulse. It was there, erratic as Hell, but there. A breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding knocked harshly free from his lungs before he reached for Cas. He tried to still his shaking hand but couldn’t quite manage it. 

“Sam, are they ok?” Jack asked. He stood over Cas’s body, eyes wide and watery.

Sam found Cas’s pulse point, it was faint and reedy, barely even a whisper. The angel opened his eyes, they glowed blue for an instant before fading back to their normal tone. 

“Cas?” Sam gasped, hand clenching at Cas’s shoulder. Cas smiled thinly, breath coming in shallow pants. His eyes slid shut again. 

Sam shook Dean’s shoulders, “Dean! Dean!” He gritted his teeth, slapping lightly at Dean’s face, “Come on!” 

Dean’s eyes flicked open, his lips barely parting as he breathed out a haze of yellow smoke. 

“Sammy-” he said, voice rough. 

“Hey!” Sam said, “Hey, you’re OK, Dean. We’ve got you.” his hands shook against Dean’s shoulders and he let out a ragged breath. Dean’s eyes widened. 

“Cas!” he turned his head quickly, taking in the angel beside him, barely two inches away. He turned over with a grunt so he was lying on his side. 

“Easy, Dean. He’s ok.” 

Dean reached a hand forward, gently cupping the side of Cas’s face until Cas’s eyes slowly reopened. Cas stared at him before struggling weakly to sit up. Jack scrambled to help him.

“Dean- are-” Cas’s breaths came out sharp and yellow. Sam put a hand against Dean’s back as he sat. Dean reached forward, resting his hands on the angel’s shoulder and placing his forehead against Cas’s for a moment. Sam darted his eyes between the two for an instant before Dean wrapped Cas up in an awkwardly angled hug ** _._** Sam met Cas’s intense gaze over Dean’s shoulder. 

“Cas-” Dean rasped. 

“Don’t apologize,” Cas growled into Dean’s shoulder. Sam thought he heard Dean let out a low laugh. 

Dean pushed away from the hug keeping one hand on Cas’s shoulder. Sam tensed, ready to spring forward and catch whichever one of them fell over first. Of course, now they were going to talk. Classic Dean to wait for a potentially fatal situation and not wait until they were in the clear. At least he wasn’t being angry. 

“Cas I was in your head. I felt what you-”

“Dean, I have been in your head more than once,” Cas said, the sentence costing him a good deal of breath. 

“Different-”

“Dean-”

Dean let out a low hacking cough, yellow smoke pooling around him. Cas shook his head before placing two fingers on Dean’s forehead. Sam jumped to catch his brother as he fell backward.

“Cas?” Sam asked as he refound Dean’s pulse.

“He needs to heal,” Cas said, eyes fluttering slightly. “We can talk later.” He reached for Jack, who helped him to his feet, keeping one arm around him to help him stay upright. 

“Are you… you?” Sam asked, hesitantly. He certainly seemed to be but Sam wanted confirmation before he assumed the best. With their luck, the spell could have backfired or left Cas with Dean’s taste for pie and rock music and Dean with Cas’s fascination with bees and a penchant for trenchcoats. It wouldn’t be the end of the world but Sam wanted to know about it as soon as possible. 

Cas coughed weakly, yellow smoke dispersing around him. 

“I am wholly me. My grace will need to recharge but…” he closed his eyes for a moment, knees buckling slightly. “I need-” he started, but then his knees gave out beneath him. Jack caught him with difficulty and shot Sam a concerned look. Sam shook his head and forced a smile. 

“He’s had worse.” 

***

“Eileen?” Sam asked hesitantly. She was completely exhausted after the spell and the work of helping Cas, Dean, and Rowena inside and into their respective beds (they’d temporarily given Rowena one of the empty rooms). He had thought Eileen would want to rest but she had said it hadn’t drained her of enough to knock her out. She raised an eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“Why didn’t you… tell me?” he asked, speaking slowly so he could remember the sign that went with the words. “I mean, you and Rowena… neither of you?” Eileen met his gaze, her dark hair falling slightly across one eye. She shook her head. 

“Why?” he asked. “I mean, I could just have easily have done that spell and neither of you would have had to risk it.” she looked up for a moment like she was collecting her words. 

“It wasn’t a big thing. Rowena wasn’t going to give up all her power… she took precautions to make sure it would come back. And-” Eileen paused, shrugging slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I don’t have much natural magic, and I don’t mind not having it. It’s not like, a big loss.” she finished. Sam shook his head. 

“You could have gotten hurt… You haven’t been back that long and-”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” she said. He stopped, mouth twitching and cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

“I know. I don’t- I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t handle yourself. Obviously you can. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever met. I just…” he trailed off, searching her face, unsure how to complete the sentence. She took a step forward and placed a hand against his chest for a moment

“Sam, you don’t always have to make the sacrifices,” she said, her hands coming up, palms out as she spoke. That was a new one, Sam hadn’t known the sign for that. He bit his lip. “Sometimes you can let other people help you.” 

“I just…” he looked down. He knew she could still see his mouth and he couldn’t say this while looking at her. “People that help us don’t always… they get hurt or-” 

Eileen tilted his chin up and met his eyes, her gaze intense. 

“Sam, I didn’t stay a hunter without knowing that there would be risks. What happened to me was not your fault. No one hunts because it’s safe.” He opened his mouth but she put up a hand. “And I didn’t stay a hunter so a big strong man could protect me,” she said, her eyebrows quirking and a teasing smile playing over her mouth. 

“I know.” he said, “I didn’t…” She shook her head, 

“I know. I’m just glad to help,” she said. Sam nodded, smiling at her, then put a hand against her cheek. She brought her hand up to meet it. He was so damn scared, every day that he would lose her again. He understood why Dean was so afraid of relationships… he really did. Every time he loved someone they got hurt, starting with Jess and then it never really stopped. Every time he thought maybe he could make it work. This time they would be ok… But Eileen was right… She was watching his face carefully, and he ran a thumb lightly over her cheekbone. Eileen could kick ass, she was a great hunter, and yeah, hunters died on the job all the time, he could lose her again. But if anyone could make it through the Hell they were prepping for, with Chuck, it was Eileen. 

“Thank you,” he said, biting back the tears that were stinging at him. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his before placing a hand on his face gently and kissing him. 

***

It took two days for Rowena to be up and about at full strength and back off to Hell _.  _

“Well Samuel, it’s always good to chat.” she stopped and leaned forward so Eileen couldn’t see her from her position by the doorway, “Eileen is lovely, I hope she makes it and you don’t screw it up as your brother would,” Rowena said with a wink. Sam laughed. 

“Yeah… um. Thanks.” 

“You’re very welcome, Dearie. I’ll call in that favor soon. I’m sure I’ll have some Winchester worthy work in my pocket eventually.” 

“Sounds good.” He said. “Thank you again for all you did. I’m sorry the spell was so-” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, Samuel,” she said, waving him off. 

“I know. I just… Thank you. You went above and beyond and-”

“Now now Samuel, don’t get too sappy on me,” she said with a small scowl. 

She spared a moment to give Jack a quick hug before she turned around and gave them both a mischievous smile, 

“Well, see you boys in Hell!” and she was gone. Sam glanced at Eileen who smiled. 

“I was starting to like her!” she said. 

It was another day before Dean managed to show up for morning coffee. He looked like Hell and Sam couldn’t help fussing a bit. Dean waved him off but accepted the soup and medicine that Sam, Jack, and Eileen pushed on him. Cas had used almost all of his remaining energy to heal Dean and pull him back from the brink during the spell so he had been solidly sleeping for over twenty-four hours. He surfaced around noon and even had a little food with them, which Sam found worrying. He still looked skeletal and he kept staring off into space. 

Dean and Cas were still just… Dean and Cas. They seemed much as they had been. Maybe they stared a little more. Sam noticed that they were almost creepily in sync sometimes. Jack would ask one of them a question and they would make blazing eye-contact over his head. He mentioned it to Eileen and she agreed. 

He walked into the garage to get something from the car and found Dean sitting sideways in the driver’s side, busily working on repairing the broken door handle. Sam smiled. He was glad Dean knew how to fix that cause he wouldn’t have had the foggiest clue. Cas leaned on one of the vintage fords that were parked close by, facing Dean. They both smiled when he walked in but it was tight. He sighed. He seemed to have a knack for interrupting them when they were having a moment. He left as quickly as he could after that. 

***

Sam woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. He took a few deep breaths, letting the flames and hooks fade from his vision. He got out of bed slowly so he didn’t jostle Eileen and made his way to the kitchen for some tea. 

“Jack, I wasn’t thinking straight. I told you.” 

Sam stopped a few steps away from the door, wincing. He didn’t want to interrupt anything and Cas sounded irritable. Then again, they both had supernatural hearing so they might already know he was there. 

“You didn’t want your emotions back,” Jack said. Sam turned slowly on the spot and started to creep back the way he had come. 

“Jack-”

“Was it because of the deal?” Jack asked harshly. Sam froze. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. It could be important that he not know… it could have to do with Chuck. It could be something- he shook himself. Deals were never good news. 

“Jack, my logic was… faulty. I told you. It didn’t have any bearing on how I actually feel.” 

“But-”

“Jack, please. It isn’t important and it is done. I’m sorry that it… I’m sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry, Cas. It’s my fault. You wouldn’t have had to-”

“Jack!” Sam winced at the gravel in Cas’s voice, stomach clenching into knots at the sound of Cas’s chair scraping back. This was wrong. He should move. “I made that deal of my own volition and I do not regret it. It isn’t your fault.” 

Sam snuck slowly into the map room and leaned his head against the wall. He waited until he heard Jack saying goodnight and lost the sound of his receding footsteps before he made his way back into the kitchen. Cas was sitting at the small table, head in his hands. He looked up as Sam walked over the threshold. 

“Hello, Sam.” Sam stared at him. “I…” Cas said awkwardly, “I thought I heard you walking around.” He looked down as he spoke. 

“Cas,” Sam said. “What deal did you make?” 

Cas closed his eyes for a moment, resignation drawing harsh lines across his face. He looked very small, sitting at that table. Sam wanted to sit, to make sure he was ok but he kept his place in the doorway. He needed to know. They couldn’t afford to be keeping secrets.

“It isn’t important, Sam,” Cas said quietly. 

“Right,” Sam scoffed, “cause deals are usually a great plan for us.” Cas didn’t move. “Was it to save Jack? I thought that was Billie. Did you make a deal with her? With the Empty?” Cas flinched at the last word and Sam shifted slightly on his feet. “The Empty, Cas?” 

“Sam,” Cas said, head tilting, eyes tired and pleading. 

“No, Cas!” Sam said, reminding himself to keep his volume down. “Why would you keep something like this a secret from us! We have got to know as many puzzle pieces as we can if we are going to fight Chuck and win-” 

“My deal had nothing to do with Chuck, except in that he may have laid the plot that engineered it,” Cas said, finally holding Sam’s gaze. Sam bit back the memory of Cas with eyes blazing, wings framed in yellow. He looked so human now. 

“Then what, Cas?” 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Cas said. Sam’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Cas-”

“No,” Cas said, forcefully. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect our fight against Chuck and we have enough to be dealing with. It won’t affect anything but me and even then not for a long time.”

“You affect us, Cas,” Sam said. Cas looked down. Sam remembered the way Dean had behaved with Cas’s emotion, the heaviness that had been there. “Cas, look at me,” Sam said gently. Cas glared and Sam swallowed. “What happens to you is important. It matters to us.” 

Cas closed his eyes, his forehead creasing like he was in pain. 

“Sam. I… I know. I didn’t want to concern you and I still-” he trailed off, shaking his head. “The deal was made when Jack died the first time. When he went to Heaven. It will not impact our fight with Chuck.” 

“Cas-”

“I can’t, Sam,” Cas said, eyes opening wide. He looked desperate and he stood so fast that Sam thought he might put a dent in the table. “I will tell you I… I promise. I just can’t now I’m not ready for that. I have to focus on what is at hand.” 

“What if this affects what is at hand?” Sam asked. His thoughts spiraled back to Chuck… the fear and anguish on Dean’s face in that nightmare of a world Chuck had shown him… the one where Cas had The Mark of Cain. Surely Dean would have known… would have felt that on Cas? 

“I’m sorry, Sam.” 

“No.” Sam said, blocking the doorway as Cas made a beeline for it, “absolutely not.” Cas narrowed his eyes like he was considering just moving Sam out of his way to escape. 

“You know keeping it secret is a dumb idea, Cas,” Sam said desperately. Cas tilted his head. “Cas, Chuck showed me a lot of scenarios for how this ends and I… I need you to be straight with me.” 

Cas’s eyes softened slightly and he shook his head. 

“I almost forgot,” he said. Sam nodded, holding his breath. Cas turned and sat heavily back down at the table. This time Sam joined him. 

“Please, don’t tell Dean,” Cas said quietly. Sam frowned but nodded. 

“OK, Cas. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

***

Sam didn’t want to break his word to Cas but he wondered if Dean might know about it anyway… I mean, he had essentially been in Cas’s head, right? He hadn’t told Eileen about it either, although he was tempted. 

Eileen hadn’t gone anywhere just yet which Sam was more than happy with. He didn’t know how to ask if she would stay and certainly didn’t blame her if she wouldn’t but she was here now, and that was all he needed. 

He found himself alone in the kitchen with Dean as he went in for coffee after his run.

Dean had a book open on the table and a cup of coffee beside him. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. He did want to see how Dean was holding up. They hadn’t had much of a chance to talk and he didn’t want to push it with Dean not feeling well--

Dean held out his coffee mug, 

“Imma need at least three cups in me before you get started on one of your chick flick moments,” he said gruffly. Sam bit back a smile and took the cup. Dean ignored him while he poured coffee for them both. He pushed the mug across the table and sat down. Dean closed his book with a longsuffering sigh. Sam tilted his head to look at the title;

**_Fellowship of the Ring_ ** . 

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly challenging Sam to say something. Sam closed his mouth. He knew better than to poke that particular bear before broaching an emotional subject. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked after a moment. Dean shrugged, 

“It’s a big friggin relief not having weird-ass angel emotions and senses and… whatever running through my head,” he said. He picked up his coffee mug like he thought that maybe that could be the end of the conversation. Sam shifted in his chair, 

“What exactly...uh, happened? With the spell?” he asked. Dean took a deep breath and stared at him over his coffee mug. 

“You saw.” 

“Dean.” 

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes “it was a lot. I.. had Cas’s memories for a second there, not all of them obviously. Just… fragments.” he stopped, shifting his coffee cup back and forth on the table. “I know the guys been in my head plenty of times and he says he isn’t too bothered. But I-” Dean paused again and Sam took a sip of coffee, “I had his emotions. That’s not normal even by our standards. That’s a kind of intimate that you ain’t really supposed to reach, ya know?” Dean asked, his jaw ticked slightly and he shifted the coffee cup around awkwardly for a moment. Sam was slightly surprised he was being this open. He felt like if he breathed wrong Dean might just clam up about it. “I think… I think right at the end there it might have gone both ways like he might have been in my head… had my memories a bit, too.” 

Sam shifted. Not all of his memories he’d said, so… Dean didn’t know. 

“Well, Cas seems OK with it,” he said Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Look, We’re good it just… I know a lot about the guy now. It changes your perspective on some shit. I know how he feels about every person in this bunker and it’s… its a lot. Knowing intellectually and feeling it are… real fucking different.” he said, shaking his head slightly.

Sam waited, thinking about how upset Cas had been the other night, how adamant he was that he didn’t want to worry them.

“He cares about us a lot. We knew that.” he said finally “I mean, we care about him too.” Dean nodded. 

“Of course. We just… we gotta remind him of that sometimes.” Dean said with a shrug like it was no big thing. 

Sam smiled. 

“We knew that too-” he started to stay, then he stopped himself. Maybe Cas was deliberately keeping himself unhappy. What Dean had felt… Did he know what would make Cas happy? Probably… maybe they could… avoid it? Sam shook his head. 

“Did you ask him why he ripped the page?” Sam asked carefully. Dean shrugged. 

“Yeah. He said basically the same schtick you did about it making sense when he was emotionless and something about seeming like he could be more powerful or some shit.” he paused for a moment then added, “I can’t be that mad about it cause I know… I know how he would have been feeling if-” he trailed off and tiredly scrubbed at his face with one hand.

“But you two are ok?” Sam asked

“Of course!” Dean said “he’s Cas. I mean, I know more about how the guy thinks, feels, and does life generally than I know about anyone, except you probably. And I guess I knew some of that before anyway. We’re good.”

“You’ve talked about all of it?” Sam asked. 

“Jesus, Sammy, what are you? Our shrink?” 

“What if Cas wants to talk more?” Sam asked. Dean laughed, 

“He’s fine.” he raised a hand to stop Sam’s protest, “He told me.” 

“So you did talk about all of it?” 

“I mean… we checked in.” Dean said, eyes roving anywhere that wasn’t Sam. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“You, checked in?” 

“Yes! We checked in. We decided it was good. We are both ok, and he said… he said some ridiculously Cas thing about not-” Dean let out a harsh breath, “not minding me knowing all that… stuff. How he feels and everything. Nothing he wouldn’t share anyway. He trusts me and all that. And I don’t… I mean, he’s been in my head before, and It’s deeper than I would usually go, but it’s Cas. If anyone’s gotta be inside my head, it might as well be him. I trust him completely. More than anyone, ‘cept you obviously. He’s family.” Dean took another sip of his coffee then stared at Sam for a beat, “we good?” he asked finally. Sam smiled. 

“Yeah. I’m- I’m glad I didn’t lose you. Either of you. I was worried for a minute.” 

Dean laughed, opening up his book again, 

“Nah. Would take more than a witch to knock either of us off the board.” he smiled at Sam again. Sam nodded, throat tightening as he thought about his conversation with Cas. He stood slowly and tapped Dean lightly on the shoulder as he went back to the coffee machine. He pulled out another couple of cups when he heard Jack and Cas’s voices from the hallway. 

“Mornin’ sunshine!” Dean said to Cas, picking up a box of cereal he’d picked up from the store before the witch fiasco and tossing it to Jack with a wink. That relationship seemed to have improved somewhat, too. Jack grinned. 

Sam poured the coffee and handed them each a mug before pouring one more and heading towards the door. 

“Where the Hell are you heading?” Dean asked. Cas and Jack both tilted their heads at him. He smiled. 

“Eileen likes coffee before breakfast,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes and elbowed Cas carefully in the ribs. 

“Eileen likes her coffee before breakfast.” he intoned, deadly serious. Cas nodded.

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, 

“Bitch,”

“Jerk.” 

“Bacon in fifteen,” Dean said. Sam smiled. 

“Will do.” 

He walked towards the doorway, glancing back as Dean met Cas’s gaze and put a hand on his shoulder with a smile. Maybe, finally, his brother and Cas were completely on the same page. Misunderstandings and history put aside and understood as well as they could be. Well, he could hope. Cas looked content and it made Sam’s chest hurt. Dean started telling Jack how to make bacon and Sam caught Cas’s eye for an instant. He smiled. Cas nodded, his eyes catching the light and flashing brilliant blue, like his grace. Like when he had saved Dean the other day. Saved Dean, again. Saved Sam in a way, too. Sam frowned slightly and aimed his thoughts at Cas, hoping he would pick it up as a prayer. 

_ “Thank you.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. Thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and support. It means the world to me and I hope you enjoyed the final chapter.


End file.
